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IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT by SbS
Ok, he shouldn’t have, but isn’t this, like, a given? He did it before; he’ll probably do it again…
So it started with the creepy howling in the middle of the night, and could it have been during day time? Nope Siree! Never!
At first Stiles hadn’t minded it. Between being lost in research about made-up witchcraft spells and trying to determine new ones online, he couldn’t be bothered by stupid noises outside his closed window. A few nights later, the howls almost woke him up but instead they wove themselves into his nightmares and by the time he sat up, cold sweats all over his body, eyes wide trying to comprehend what freaked him out, the oppressive silence was the only answer and he ended up trying to calm down under a warm shower instead.
Tonight the pack meeting had ended early, and the clock had barely chimed the midnight hour when he left. He was driving Roscoe through the empty streets of Beacon Hill when the powerful howl made him break and veer to the side of the road at once. He couldn’t hear anything else to pinpoint the creature and the direction of the frightening sound over his heart beating a staccato out of his constricted chest. Stiles was no wilting flower though, and there was no stopping his inquiring mind.
Making sure his car was parked safely on the side, he grabbed his trusted torch lamp, his whistle and his Lacrosse stick before heading through the park that backed up to the large Preserve border. The shadows were much larger now that he was running through the forest, playing games with his peripheral vision, making stupid branches appear much more frightening than they’d ever be in daylight. Anyway, here he was, one more time, running through the woods, forgetting about the most basic of safety measures he should have drilled in his mind since he discovered the Supernatural world surrounding him, but hey, one thing at a time.
We wouldn’t say of course he fell, it wouldn’t be fair, most people rushing through the bramble probably would. He did, and muddied his jeans, scraped the palm of the hand he used to stop his fall, stood again before resuming the pursuit. Of what? He didn’t know, but he was certain he wouldn’t rest until he found out.
So yeah, he got bowled over and he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what happened. His head was spinning, he couldn’t tell what was top and what was bottom and without access to the flashlight that had rolled further down the slope, he barely could make out the shadowy shapes fighting in the clearing a hundred feet away. The growling sounds were deafening, the clash of huge bodies meeting full force was terrifying, until you’ve heard bones breaking and teeth wrenching flesh and you knew there were some things you can’t un-hear.
Stiles scrambled back onto his feet, searching for anything to use as protection, fingers pulling on a dead branch to become a weapon, splinters burrowing into his trembling hands, nausea hitting him hard enough that he closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the rough bark of the tree behind him for respite. A wet tongue licked at the side of his face and he blinked his eyes open, to look at brilliant blue ones and a snout matted in blood too close to his face to be able to focus. He would have passed out, had he not recognized the man behind the body warming his side; and he finally let the stuck breath leave his body, some of the tension slowly releasing along the way.
He had to be saved, and by a freaking Hale… Really sucked to be him some days…
*** ***
Derek had just finished dropping off Isaac and Vernon and was on his way back when he noticed the unmistakable blue car of Stiles on the side of the road and the more haphazardly parked one behind it that could only be Peter. What the hell were they doing here? Did something happen?
Circumspectly, he lowered all the windows and drove once around the area until he could catch the scent of the battle and had a trail to follow. Slowly coming out of the car under the wind, anticipating an upcoming shift, he removed his shirt and left it on the seat before carefully closing the door; now was not the time to make the kind of noise that could put them all in jeopardy.
A few minutes later though, by the time he hit the clearing, the slain beast was already vanquished and no battle seemed imminent. The blood seeping on the ground though was a mixture of the creature, of his uncle, and underneath it all, he could smell a faint trace of Stiles as well. Making his way on the side trail he stopped dead on his path when confronted by a quite satisfying sight.
Peter was sitting on a fallen log and had the young teen upturned on his lap, getting his ass tanned. He wanted to laugh but managed to keep himself in check. Backing up in the shadow and making sure the wind direction was still protecting him from detection, he tried to listen to the exchange between his uncle and the mouthy teen he had so often pushed around himself.
“You could have called!” Peter was saying, while focusing all his taps on the bared seat spot of the squirming Stiles, “you could have waited!” the adult added for good measure, reddening the formerly pale thighs trying to escape the pointed attention the large hand repeatedly falling was actually giving them.
Derek could see the teen’s bunched up jeans at the knees were acting as a perfect shackle and his boxers had twisted up enough to show some darker patches of skin on the underside of his buttocks that probably had been spanked earlier. He felt a bit bad for him, yet from what Peter was murmuring, he deserved to be taken in hand. The young man just did not have enough sense of self preservation and was always rushing towards danger. Stiles was just too good hearted, and courageous, and reckless too… Derek was glad he wasn’t the only one thinking that taking a moment to think things through when you were the only human in the pack was important. He didn’t believe, he would ever have thought about that form of discipline, but here it was…
He could hear Stiles faintly apologizing, asking for the spanking to stop, promising to be good forever and that brought a smirk to his usually solemn face. He moved slowly towards them and easily enough was noticed by his uncle. Peter nodded his way but also growled a bit. There was no way the teen could have gotten the silent message they exchanged but it was certainly saving his behind. Derek retreated towards the discarded body and headed towards a darkened corner of the Preserve to dispose of it, while Peter decided to make a last cycle count on the punished backside of the boy. Tilting his left leg, it made the warmed skin of Stiles even more receptive to his firm spanks, white traces of his palm and fingers turning to vivid red and then disappearing in the uniform crimson spreading around the body slumping on his lap. All the fight was gone from the rebellious teen and all the worries too from the seasoned werewolf spanking him. The short discipline session had taken away the stress they had both experienced and actually brought a form of peace to the both of them. No more restlessness and no more adrenaline rushing through their veins, just a sense of completion they couldn’t have imagined at the onset of this.
Peter lifted the boy smoothly to his feet and brought the jeans above his slim waist, not bothering trying to close them as he knew the teen would be quite sensitive now.
He slightly cleaned up his own pants of the forest debris clinging to them before straightening up, and with a hand to Stiles’ back, putting them in the direction of the parking. The walk was slow and Peter’s hand on the boy’s back was enough of a steadying force to ensure that there was minimal stumbling on the way back.
The walk was slower than the running that had brought them there at first and Stiles was surprised to find Derek leaning against his car once they finally appeared by the parked vehicles. “Huh?” was his surprised reaction but he was still feeling a bit off and not in the mood to be snarky. Derek must have sensed it, so when he opened his palm to get the keys to Roscoe, he wasn’t surprised that they were handed to him without much fuss. “Get in the back, I’ll drive you home,” he added before walking to the driver’s side, and smiled when he saw Stiles flop on his tummy in the back, burying his head in his folded arms to cushion it.
Peter passed them and somehow had the door open by the time they arrived in front of the Sheriff’s house. Stiles wasn’t asleep but was groggy enough that he appreciated the help he got from his disciplinarian to get up the stairs. The Hales waited by the entrance to his room while he went to the bathroom, where he dropped his dirty clothes in the hamper and got ready for bed. He just came back in his boxer shorts to find the bed covers pushed down waiting for him to settle.
He went without a second thought and as Peter folded back the covers over him, managed a whispered “Thank you” that both werewolves had no trouble hearing…
The Hales knew he wouldn’t be as subdued as he was now in the morning, and probably more combative the next time they’d meet but he was safe, he was home and it was one more loss they wouldn’t have to live with. Ensuring everything was closed in the Stilinski house, Peter drove Derek back to his car, explaining how he ended up rescuing the boy and how thankful he was for his nephew already starting on the cleanup. Tomorrow would be another day, tense for sure, but Peter couldn’t help but be confident, it would be a good one.
The End.